


Catch us in the mirror and it looks a lot like love

by fantasiavii



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gryffindor Penny, Gryffindor Simon, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Quidditch, Ravenclaw Agatha, Ravenclaw Baz, Slytherin Dev, Slytherin Niall, inadvisable magickal shenanigans, post-HP canon but before HP next gen, technically a crossover because I couldn't help but write Professor Harry in the background, technically ooc Simon because he's under the influence of a love potion for half of it, they're all in fourth year and they're idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasiavii/pseuds/fantasiavii
Summary: The box is small, the chocolates expensive, and the love potion ridiculously easy to conceal inside them.It’s not my most brilliant plan. It’s disgustingly obvious, to be honest. But the idea of making Snow feel, even just for a day, an ounce of what he’s putting me through—it’s too good an opportunity to miss.Baz's ill-advised revenge plan goes awry and Simon ends up consuming a love potion meant for Agatha. Baz and Penny band together to get Simon through it. Baz struggles not to reveal his true feelings for Simon while a parody of reciprocation is (sometimes literally) sitting in his lap.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104





	Catch us in the mirror and it looks a lot like love

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Carry On Eve! Or--well, I mean, this was supposed to be up on Christmas Eve (oops). 
> 
> There are more notes at the end about certain world-building decisions I've made but I just wanted to say here that Simon is not in his right mind for a decent part of the story and while nothing seriously bad comes of it, the other characters do think and talk about how a love potion is a bit like being drugged or drunk and about how Simon is not able to consent to a lot of what he does. If that's going to be uncomfortable for you to read, I encourage you to take care of yourself first and click away. :)
> 
> Title is from the song [Another Place](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKRwmHppvTE) by Bastille.

BAZ

  


The box is small, the chocolates expensive, and the love potion ridiculously easy to conceal inside them.

It’s not my most brilliant plan. It’s disgustingly obvious, to be honest. But the idea of making Snow feel, even just for a day, an ounce of what he’s putting me through—it’s too good an opportunity to miss. 

He’s been dating Agatha Wellbelove since the beginning of the year, but he had a crush on her long before that, after she saved him from a hippogriff last year. (Wellbelove is the top of the class in Care of Magickal Creatures, but I don’t mind it.) Snow’s crush made him even stupider than normal and it used to make me so angry—we had more fights last year than the previous two years combined. It took me until I saw Wellbelove kiss him on the cheek on the train platform at the end of the year to figure out why.

Because _I_ wanted to kiss his cheek. (Because she didn’t touch any of his moles, and I wanted to kiss each one.)

It’s just my luck to have a crush on someone who actually hates me and has done since first year. I don’t know what that says about me except that when I first antagonized him, I don’t think it was out of dislike.

I think that realization made me hate him more. Even if I know I don’t hate him at all.

I leave the box of chocolates on a table in our common room, just before dawn when no one else is awake. I attach a note addressed to Wellbelove but don’t sign my name. She’ll know it’s me. Snow can’t get in here and what other Ravenclaw would it be? I’ve been giving her these long, cool looks for the past month so she thinks I’m thinking of her. They make Snow flush red with anger. 

She’ll know it’s me.

Snow deserves this. I’ve already waited longer than usual to get revenge on him for exploding my herbicide potion in my face back in January. I know it was him, even though he was across the classroom at the time. (His magic is just like that sometimes—all over the place. Rumor is he was half way to being an Obscurial when McGonagall picked him up from the orphanage.)

After placing the chocolates, I return up to my dormitory to pack my school bag. The box has disappeared by the time I come back down. I smirk slightly.

Let the game begin.

  


SIMON

  


My day is ruined and it’s barely even started. Penny is trying to distract me with star charts but I’m too busy glaring across the Divination classroom at Baz.

It’s Valentine’s Day. It’s Agatha and my first Valentine’s Day together. And that smooth git caught up with us as we were heading to class just to tell Agatha “Happy Valentine’s Day” right in front of me. I mean, I was right there! 

And the worst part—the absolute _worst_ part—is that up until that moment, I had forgotten what day it was.

It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it, all right? I had plans. Well, almost-plans. But then the days flew by and what with Quidditch practice and homework, I just forgot. It could happen to anyone! 

(I actually think Penny tried to remind me last week, but it was in Herbology and the Venomous Tentacula grabbed me before she could finish. Still, it’s not my fault!)

But Baz didn’t forget. He just swanned in making eyes at my girlfriend and making me look like a right tit. (I don’t know if Baz really _makes eyes_. But he’s always looking at her. His eyes are this deep, cool grey. Everything about him is cool, and not just because he’s a vampire. It’s infuriating.)

(I’m almost certain he’s a vampire. Penny keeps telling me it doesn’t matter.)

Baz has always had it out for me, ever since first year when he landed me in detention during our first flying lesson. And now he’s trying to drag Agatha into it too. Or, more precisely, he’s trying to drag her away with him. He can’t stand me having something over him. (Last year when I made the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I swear he joined his out of spite.) 

Penny smacks me on the arm with her star charts. I jerk my gaze away from Baz, who’s smirking, and notice Professor Trelawney has come to stand over our table.

“Er—yes, Professor?”

“I asked you a question about Saturn, dear boy,” she says irritably. “What influence do you think Saturn has on your life this month? You have been tracking it, yes?”

“Um.” I stumble through an answer that has Penny rolling her eyes. She’s much better at Divination than me, but Professor Trelawney is always singling me out. (Professor Potter says not to worry about it too much.)

Trelawney moves away, still frowning slightly, and I look back across the classroom at Baz. He’s already watching me. He raises one eyebrow (I’ve never learned how to do that) and slides his gaze to Agatha. _Bastard._

  


AGATHA

  


I found the box of chocolates in the common room before breakfast. I knew they were from Baz immediately. It had to be a Ravenclaw and Baz hasn’t been subtle about his crush. He hasn’t even shown any restraint around Simon.

 _Simon._

There’s the problem right there. Those two have had this ridiculous rivalry with each other practically since they arrived at Hogwarts. Simon is convinced Baz is evil, but there’s no evidence his parents were ever Death Eaters. His grandparents, definitely, but his parents weren’t even in the country for most of the last war. Besides, that’s all history now.

I think Simon is just jealous. And Baz…well, I can’t deny he’s very attractive.

So, yes, I was pleased when I found the chocolates. It’s not a crime! And accepting the chocolates is hardly cheating. Besides, it’s not like my relationship with Simon will last forever.I’m only 15!

(I know that’s not how most people think of relationships. But I’m just being realistic _._ )

I don’t mind Baz being interested in me. I have to admit it makes things more exciting. But this morning, after he wished me a happy Valentine’s Day, his eyes slid straight to Simon! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he has a crush on me just to annoy Simon. Or maybe he’s been faking it this whole time.

It’s always about them, isn’t it?

And now I don’t want his chocolates anymore. I wish I could throw them right back in his face, but he left them anonymously. I bet if I tried he’d just deny it all. Simon, Baz—I’m sick of both of them right now. Simon _forgot_ it was Valentine’s Day. He tried to cover it, but I could tell. And Baz was smirking at Simon as much as looking at me. I felt like a chess piece moving between them—like a pawn. And I _hate_ that.

I stick the chocolates in my trunk and try to forget about them.

***

And I do forget about them. For three months. It’s only when it’s May and Penny has started harping on about final exams and arranging study sessions that I dig them back out of my trunk.

I didn’t pick up anything at Honeydukes on the last Hogsmeade weekend so these will have to do. I took the tag off so there’s no way to tell where I got them or what they were for. If either Simon or Penny asks, I can just say my parents sent them from home. (Although my parents would never send me _these_ chocolates. Half of them are alcoholic and half of them are white chocolate. Honestly, I don’t know what Baz was thinking when he chose these—some of the flavors are fairly disgusting.)

Penny’s secured a classroom for the study session. I don’t know if we’re technically allowed in here, but she likes to write on the blackboards. She’s got all her books spread out over the table in the front. I put the chocolates on top of the small pile of snacks on one of the desks in the front rows. Simon isn’t here yet.

“White chocolate?” Penny wrinkles her nose. I just shrug. Luckily, she doesn’t press the matter and turns to her beloved blackboard. “I was thinking we should start with Defense Against the Dark Arts, that’s bound to be the hardest—practical and written components.”

“But Professor Potter hasn’t given us the study guide yet,” I say as I sit down. “He always gives us a study guide.”

Penny is about to argue, but just then Simon bursts in. I can smell him even before he arrives. He’s coming in from Quidditch practice and it’s been raining. He smells like mud and smoke, so he must be upset about something.

His magic is really unpredictable, even after four years at Hogwarts. Penny thinks it’s because he still gets sent back to a care home every summer, so the circumstances that traumatized him haven’t been completely removed.

(She actually calls it that—trauma. Simon doesn’t like to talk about it.)

One of the most common things his magic does is stink up the room. Right now he’s practically smoking at the ears. It must be Baz upsetting him then. (As usual.)

(I broke it off with Simon last month. _Not_ for Baz. Because I couldn’t stand being their pawn anymore.)

“Ravenclaw took over the pitch even though their practice is scheduled for tomorrow,” he growls. “Something about special circumstances because of the final. We have to practice too!” He drops his damp bag on the ground.

Penny wrinkles her nose. “Did you shower at all?”

He waves a hand. “I will when we get back to the common room. And I still can’t get it to go away!” He holds up his left hand. It’s a strange greenish-gray and covered in scales. We were turning lizards into snakes and back today in Transfiguration and Simon missed his lizard.

“Go to Madame Pomfrey then,” Penny says as she spells some of the mud off him.

“I’m not injured, it’s just green,” Simon says irritably. “And scaley. I swear if Baz hadn’t—”

“Not this again,” Penny groans.

“Oh, what, so he just _accidentally_ sent his lizard flying across the room—”

“I don’t think—”

“Transfiguration,” I say loudly over the both of them. “Let’s start with Transfiguration. McGonagall will be as hard as Potter, Penny, and we could get Simon’s arm back to normal besides.”

For once, they both listen to me.

  


PENELOPE

  


It takes us an hour to get Simon’s arm looking pink and human again and by that time the room no longer smells like smoke. We take a break, then start up again fifteen minutes later. We’re still having trouble deciding between Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. I don’t understand why Agatha is so insistent we wait for the study guide.

But then something she says sets Simon off and he’s complaining about how he’s sure Baz is plotting. Something about hexed Quaffles and the upcoming Quidditch match—Ravenclaw and Gryffindor are in the lead for the Cup this year. He’s talking while chewing and it’s disgusting.

I turn to the blackboard and start listing the names and definitions of the Unforgivable Curses and how to fight them. 

I’m trying to remember if there’s a way to fight off the Cruciatus Curse when I notice that Simon’s rant is fading away into mumbles. I turn around. He’s got a stupid look on his face, like someone’s just hit him over the head with a frying pan. He was still chewing and he hasn’t closed his mouth (gross). He’s just staring vacantly into space.

Agatha hasn’t noticed yet. I’m about to ask what’s wrong when he says, “Baz looks really beautiful on a broom, though, doesn’t he?”

“What?”

Simon swallows. “Yeah, I mean, he’s so strong and graceful and—and fucking _ruthless_.” He sounds breathless.

_“What?”_

“And he looks so fit in his Quidditch robes—it’s distracting. And he knows it, I swear, the way he looks at me sometimes. He’s got lovely eyes, hasn’t he?He’s so _beautiful_.”

And then Simon puts his chin in his hand and _sighs_. It’s frightening.

Agatha is staring at him now too. “Are you taking the piss?” she asks.

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask at the same time.

“I’m fine,” Simon says. “I just…” And then he goes suddenly pale. “Merlin, I was such a dick to him in class today. And this morning—how could he ever forgive me? He’ll never like me back!”

“ _What?_ ” Agatha and I exclaim at the same time.

“I have to go apologize to him right now,” Simon says. He looks like he’s going to be ill. Like thought of having hurt _Baz Pitch_ is enough to make him sick. “Quidditch practice should be over, right?” he asks, then runs out without waiting for an answer.

“Simon!” I shout. My mind is racing. I can’t imagine what’s gotten in to him. It’s not like he’s been jinxed. He’s just been sitting there. Except—

My eyes fall on the chocolates he was eating. The ones Agatha brought.

“ _Where did you get those chocolates?_ ”

“They were a—a Valentine’s Day gift.” She looks at me with dawning horror. “From _Baz._ ”

 _“Merlin and Morgana._ He spiked them!” I can’t believe even Baz would stoop this low. Love potions are _banned_. They’re the magickal equivalent of a date rape drug! I can’t _believe_ him.

And I can’t believe I just let Simon run out that door.

“Penny, what do we do?”Agatha asks but I’m already running.

  


BAZ

  


I’ve just finished with my shower and am reading in my dormitory when there’s the sound of a commotion from downstairs. I can hear people arguing and it doesn’t sound like it’s just over a game of Exploding Snap. I’ve just decided to ignore it when that option is taken away. There are footsteps on the stairs and then three people burst through my dormitory door.

Bunce, Wellbelove. And _Snow_.

Who sees me and says, “Baz!” like one might say “Puppies!” and _throws himself at me._

“I tried to stop them,” Wellbelove gasps but I can’t spare a thought for her. My arms are full of Snow. I’m too shocked to react. He’s so close all at once and my senses are filled with him—the weight of his body, his warmth, the scent of him (smoky and buttery, like popcorn that’s been slightly overdone). It’s nothing like I imagined having Snow in my bed would be. Because it’s _real._ He’s…hugging me? (Should I hug him back?)

And then, just as fast, he’s letting go, before I can be anything other than breathless. But now he kneels on the bed and grabs my hand and says, “I was so terrible to you today in class, I’m so sorry for everything I said, please say you forgive me.”

“Merlin,” Agatha groans.

“ _Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch_ ,” Bunce hisses like she’s about to announce my death sentence. Her expression is thunderous.

I look from Snow to Wellbelove to Bunce, schooling my face into what I hope is annoyance (and nothing else). “What in Crowley’s name is going on?”

“Isn’t that just the question, Basilton,” Bunce says, looking ready to hex me until my insides are out. (She could do it.) 

“That’s not an answer, Bunce,” I say. My wand is on my bedside table. Snow is currently in the way. _He’s still holding my hand._

“I’m really sorry, Baz,” he says. “About what I called you in class and for hexing you last week and for trying to punch you in the hallway and for following you around that one week in March.” He takes a breath and opens his mouth to keep going. Crowley, is he going to apologize for everything he’s ever done to me? What the fuck is going on?

“Tell me about the chocolates you gave Agatha for Valentine’s Day,” Bunce says and _oh._

Oh, _no_.

Snow is now holding my hand in both of his and rubbing with his thumbs. It makes me shiver. He looks pale and desperate.

“The truth is,” he says, rounding off his final apology, “I’m desperately attracted to you.”

_What have I done?_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, thinking quickly. My mind feels like it’s going into overdrive. (I think Snow just kissed my hand.) This could get me in so much trouble. Detention or suspension, probably. It’s trouble I can’t afford to be in, not with the Quidditch final coming up. We _have_ to win this year. (I have to beat Snow.)

(Snow, who’s about a minute from declaring his undying love for me under the influence of that stupid love potion. I might be sick.)

Bunce opens her mouth but Wellbelove beats her to it. “Oh, don’t even try, Basil. I know they were from you.”

“And you spiked them with a love potion, didn’t you?” Bunce asks furiously.“Do you have any idea how despicable that is? Love potions are the worst sort of coercion, next to the Imperius Curse! When Longbottom hears about this—”

“There’s no need for that,” I say, trying to sound calm and confident. (I’m not.) “It was just a joke.”

“A _joke?_ ” Wellbelove spits.

 _Shit, shit._ Wrong answer.

“Love potions only last twenty-four hours,” I say, speaking as quickly as I can without sounding panicked. “They’re relatively harmless. I wasn’t going to take advantage” —I glance at Wellbelove— “I just wanted to annoy Snow.”

“Annoy me?” Snow asks in soft voice that he’s never used in front of me before. “Whatever I did, Baz, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

_Crowley._

“Yes, _ha ha_ , very amusing, Baz,” Bunce says, nostrils flaring like a dragon. “Taking away someone’s ability to consent, making them do whatever you want—absolutely hilarious! Do you have any idea how many people are assaulted, every day? It’s not something you can joke about, Basil!”

“I know,” I say trying to sound serious. (Because this is serious. Bunce is right. I’ve fucked up worse than I ever imagined.) 

And, curse my stupid fourteen-year-old self, Snow is looking at me like I’m the key to everything. Like he’s in pain and I hold the antidote. It _hurts_. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and it can’t be mine. It _isn’t._ It’s everything I’ve ever wanted but twisted up and served with a side of poison.

“I know,” I repeat. “ _You’re right_. I messed up.” Maybe, I can convince them not to turn me in. Though they always have before. (I don’t think I was ever sorry before.) “It was wrong and I never should have done it. But you don’t have to go to Longbottom. I swear, it’ll wear off soon enough.” If they go to Longbottom, I will definitely get detention and I can’t risk that. If I miss the match this weekend, we will definitely lose. We haven’t got a substitute Seeker. I _have_ to play. Ravenclaw hasn’t had a chance at the Cup in _years_.

Bunce’s eyes narrow even further, like she’s wondering what trick I’m pulling this time. “You still don’t get it,” she says at last. “You can’t just shrug this off! This isn’t _optional._ ” She turns on her heel and marches to the door. Wellbelove follows.

Snow doesn’t.

“Come on, Simon. _Simon_.”

Snow’s looking between me and Bunce with a confused expression on his face. “You’re trying to get Baz in trouble,” he says slowly.

“Baz got himself in trouble,” Bunce says. “Now come on, we can get Madame Pomfrey to set you right.”

“I feel fine,” Simon says, but he doesn’t look it. He’s still paler than usual and looks a bit frantic. “But I won’t let you get Baz in trouble.”

 _Crowley._ Snow is _defending_ me. I don’t know whether to be thrilled or horrified. (My stomach does an uncomfortable sort of flop, like it can’t decide either.)

“Simon, Baz drugged you,” Bunce says imploringly. “These aren’t your real feelings.”

That makes Snow angry. “Feels real enough to me,” he grumbles. The air is starting to smell like smoke.

“It’s a love potion, Simon,” Bunce tries again but he’s already shaking his head. He stands up.

“I want to stay with Baz,” he says. “I won’t let you tell on him.” His grip on my hand tightens. He must be really upset: the air is getting hazy and he’s shaking. In his other hand, he’s gripping his wand.

Bunce notices too. Her voice gets softer and quieter. “Simon, I know you’re really confused right now, but you have to trust me. This isn’t _real._ ”

“No!”

I can feel it this time, his magic. It’s like static electricity going up my arm. Like he actually might go off, right here. Over _me_.

“I won’t let you,” he says. “You can’t— _petrificus totalus!_ ”

The spell hits Wellbelove, who was heading for the door.

“Simon!” Bunce gasps. She almost sounds scared. He turns his wand on her.

“Stop it, Snow!” I get to my feet, standing between them. Crowley, I must have a death wish. (He’s going to regret this so much.) “Snow, calm down, it’s all right.” I glance at Bunce. “Let’s everybody just calm down for a second.”

“But she said it wasn’t real, Baz,” Simon whispers. “She said—”

“Snow, it’s all right. It’s all right. Deep breaths now.” He’s looking at me with furrowed brows, fierce and protective. My heart somersaults inside my chest. I’ve never done this before. Talked him down. Usually, I’m the one who pokes him until he goes off. But I’ve imagined doing this so many times.

I can feel Bunce’s eyes boring into me. “I know what she said. But you don’t want to hurt Bunce, do you? Take a deep breath. It’s okay.” He actually does as I say. I see his chest rise and fall slowly. And again.

The haze in the air recedes somewhat. Simon lowers his wand.

I don’t allow myself to revel in my success. (It’s not real.) I reach around Simon and grab my wand, holding it in my left hand (Snow still has hold of my right). I mutter the counterjinx for Wellbelove. She comes out of the Full-Body Bind with a gasp.

“This is crazy,” she says. “I’m going to get—”

“Wellbelove, don’t take a step unless you want to be frozen again,” I say, glancing back at Snow.

“What are you playing at, Baz?” Bunce demands.

“Nothing,” I tell her honestly. “I just can’t let you go to Longbottom. The Quidditch final is this weekend and I can’t risk being in detention for it.”

“Seriously?” She sounds disgusted. “Well, then, help us get him to Madam Pomfrey then.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you really think she won’t ask any questions?”

Bunce looks even more furious. “I don’t suppose you just happen to have some of the antidote lying around, do you? Didn’t think so. Let’s _go_.”

“I told you, it wears off in twenty-four hours.”

“If you expect me to let my best friend go wandering around the castle making a fool of himself—”

“He won’t,” I say. “Listen…”

  


PENELOPE

  


I don’t trust Baz. He’s plotting something.

Baz says, “Listen. He’ll probably sleep through the worst of it, right? And then tomorrow, I’ll just help babysit him until the evening. It’ll pass quickly enough.”

I don’t understand how he can be so calm while talking about this. Like we haven’t just caught him redhanded doing something that should be illegal. (I don’t know why it _isn’t._ ) (I should talk to my mum about that.)

“I don’t see one good reason why I should trust you,” I say, trying to think of a way to get Simon out of this room and to the hospital wing. Stun him? Stun Baz? (They’re still holding hands.) But I haven’t mastered the spell yet and that sounds like a good way to set Simon off.

(He’s never attacked one of us before. _Never._ I’m not keen to repeat the experience.)

“Crowley, Bunce, do I have to make an Unbreakable Vow?” Baz asks.

I glare at him. “You might. Nothing else would convince me that _you_ , of all people, want to help _Simon_.”

“I do when the Cup is on the line,” Baz says. “We’ve got to beat Gryffindor on Saturday.”

“You wish,” Simon replies but he’s smiling like it’s a joke. It’s unnerving.

Is all boys care about Quidditch? How is Baz Pitch my competition for the top of the class? I draw my wand, slowly.

“Bad idea, Bunce.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Think of it this way,” Baz says. “I’m sure the teachers would love to hear about how you two not only broke into Ravenclaw Tower, but a boys’ dormitory” —his lip curls— “and practically attacked me _in my_ _bed—_ ”

“That was Simon,” I say as Agatha says, “I let them in.”

Baz raises an eyebrow. “You _let_ them in? Don’t want to admit that in front of a teacher, Wellbelove.”

Fuck, he’s right. We have an unspoken rule at Hogwarts. Friends from other Houses can visit each other’s common rooms but never the dormitories. And _no one_ tells the teachers.

“I just meant into the common room,” Agatha says, reddening.

“And yet everyone saw you three come up here,” Baz replies.

There’s a long, tense silence. I glare at Baz. He looks coolly back. Simon is hovering behind his shoulder, still smoking slightly.

We stare each other down.

  


BAZ

  


I don’t look away from Bunce. She knows what this means: mutually assured destruction. I’m sure breaking into another House’s dormitory is worth at least the same severity of punishment as a love potion. I’m just waiting to see if the threat makes her crack.

“Oh, enough of this,” Wellbelove says, breaking the silence (and my and Bunce’s staring contest). “It’s only twenty-four hours, Penny.”

“ _Agatha,_ ” Bunce says, scandalized.

“Well, it’s either we all spend the rest of the year in detention, or none of us do,” Wellbelove argues.“I know which one I’d prefer.”

There’s another tense moment of silence. Then—

“Fine,” Bunce hisses. “But if you make one move, Basilton, one single wrong _breath_ in Simon’s direction, I swear to Merlin, I’ll hex you until you can’t remember your own name.”

“I believe you,” I say. This doesn’t make her any happier.

“And no using this against him afterwards either,” she says. “Whatever he says or whatever he does— _it isn’t real, it didn’t happen._ ”

I take a deep breath. “Deal.”

Her eyes are daggers as she repeats, “Twenty-four hours.” It sounds like a threat. Bunce starts down the stairs but then has to come back when it’s clear that Simon still isn’t going to follow. “Simon, let’s _go_.”

“But…” Simon looks extremely put out. I don’t know how much of this conversation he was actually following. It’s like he can’t understand anything that would make him realize he’s been drugged. “Why can’t I stay here with Baz?”

It looks like it’s taking all Bunce has to keep it together. She glares at me before saying, “Because you’re not in Ravenclaw, Simon.”

Simon stares at her with his mouth hanging open. 

“We have homework to finish,” Wellbelove adds.

“I could do it here?” Simon says it like he’s not sure, looking at me. Like he’s asking me for permission. 

For a moment, I imagine it—Snow in my room, in my bed. Studying. Holding my hand. _Crowley, no._ I can feel my body trying to blush and pray I don’t have enough blood in me.

“They’re right, Snow,” I say. “You should go back to your own common room.”

Simon’s face falls. It’s heartbreaking to watch. I want to reach out to him, smooth the look from his face. I don’t.

I do squeeze his hand, because he’s still holding mine. “Hey. I’ll still be here tomorrow. We’ve got Charms together, first thing.”

“Right,” Simon says glumly, “class…”

But he releases me anyway. My right hand has never felt so cold.

The three of them leave at last, Bunce still glaring at me suspiciously. As soon as I can no longer hear their footsteps on the stairs, I collapse back against my pillows.

 _Aleister fucking Crowley._ What have I gotten myself into?

***

It takes me hours to fall asleep.I can’t stop thinking about what will happen tomorrow.I’m also worried what shape my dreams will take after today. After the way Simon looked at me. I can’t stop thinking about it.

 _For the Cup_ , I keep telling myself. _For the Cup._ This is a totally selfless act done solely to ensure Ravenclaw has a fighting chance this Saturday. (Perhaps, if I repeat the lie enough, I can make myself believe it.)

By the time I fall asleep, I’ve made two rules for myself. One, don’t take advantage. Two, don’t let him find out the truth. Follow those two rules and maybe I’ll survive the day (and the rest of the year).

***

I’m woken only a couple hours later by a harried looking prefect.

“One of the Gryffindors is back,” he tells me and I’m immediately wide awake. _Snow_. “Thought he was a first year that got locked out—anyway, you better come talk to him, he won’t leave.” The prefect—Alden, I think his name is—gives me a meaningful look.

I jump out of bed, grab my dressing gown, and pull it on as I follow the prefect down the stairs.

Simon Snow is standing in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room in his sock feet, looking lost. I raise an eyebrow at the prefect; I can’t believe he let Snow inside. It’s one thing for other students to do it, but for a prefect… Alden just shrugs and yawns. “Listen, I’ve had a long night and I’ve got three papers due this week. You two just sort it out, all right?” And then he leaves.

I look back at Snow. He’s staring at me with wide eyes, swaying a little. “ _Baz._ ”

“Snow.” He’s not even wearing a robe. It’s like he sleep-walked here. Maybe he did. (Can a love potion do that to you? I really should have researched this more thoroughly.)

“You’re—you’re—” 

He’s staring at my chest. I didn’t tie the dressing gown and he can see my blue and bronze striped pajamas.

“They match,” he finishes lamely.

Snow is wearing an old t-shirt and shorts. No— _boxers._ (I am so thankful I can’t blush right now.) Simon Snow is standing in front of me, wearing boxers and socks, and turning red at the sight of me in my long-sleeved, button-up pajamas. I can’t tell if I’m in heaven or in hell but I need to do _something_. Make him leave? Make him stay? Kiss him? 

(I can’t kiss him. That would be taking advantage.)

“They do indeed,” I say at last. “Why are you here, Snow?”

Snow wraps his arms around himself like he’s cold. “Missed you,” he says quietly.

Oh, Crowley _._ I don’t know how to respond to that. But I notice he’s swaying again. He looks exhausted. I wonder if he couldn’t sleep either. ( _Because he was thinking of me._ )

“Come sit down, Snow,” I say, walking to one of the couches closest to the fireplace. I lean over to poke the fire back to life and when I sit up, Snow is sitting so close we’re pressed together from shoulder to knee. He smells like birthday candles and cake. I swallow.

“You never said if you forgive me, Baz,” Snow says a plaintive voice that is so unlike his own. “Do you forgive me? I’m really sorry.”

“Of course I forgive you,” I say in a hushed voice, mindful of the late hour and how much trouble we could get in if caught by someone other than an overworked prefect. Merlin, I hope he doesn’t remember this. If he says anything later, I’ll deny it all. “Is that what was keeping you up?”

“Yes. No. No, I—” Simon slumps against me then, tucking his face into my neck. He inhales deeply and exhales slowly, his body becoming loose and relaxed. “I just missed you.”

I’m frozen. I don’t know what to do. I can’t hold him—that would be taking advantage. Wouldn’t it? Or is it crueler not to touch him, when he so clearly wants it? Even if it isn’t real want? He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he won’t understand if I reject him. 

I don’t want to hurt him.

I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have.

(He’s going to hate me so much when he comes back to himself tomorrow.)

Slowly, I wrap my arm around him. I’m as gentle as if he were made of glass. Snow gives a happy little sigh and snuggles into my chest.

 _Merlin and Morgana and Methuselah._ I don’t know if I can survive this.

“I missed you, too,” I whisper, half hoping he won’t hear, half hoping he will. I blame the sleep-deprivation. (Two hours in and I’m already throwing all my rules out the window.)

“Mmm.” He sounds like he’s ready to fall asleep, right here. “Why do we always fight? We could do this instead.”

I smile ruefully. “There’s a very good reason we can’t do this, you just don’t remember it right now.”

“Good,” he mumbles. “I hope I never remember.”

I swallow. ( _Me, too._ ) I rub slow circles into his shoulder. When I feel like I can speak again, I ask, “Are you falling asleep on me, Snow?”

“Mmm.”

“You have to go back to your dormitory.”

“Mmm.”

He’s so warm against me, like a blanket. Like several blankets. With him and the fire, I’m starting to feel sleepy myself. The hours spent tossing and turning are catching up to me. “Don’t make me carry you,” I say, but my heart’s not in it.

“Couldn’t,” Snow says, voice muffled by my dressing gown. “Not that strong.”

I probably am that strong. I’ve never tested the limits of my strength, but I know it’s more than that of a normal human. (Because I’m not a normal human. There’s a law about it and everything.)

But I’m not going to test it right now. Right now I feel like it would take all of my strength just to stand. Just to push Snow off of me. I rest my head on top of his, inhaling deeply. Maybe just a few minutes like this, and then I’ll get up. Just a few minutes, and then I’ll send him back to bed. A few minutes can’t hurt. A few minutes…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> I have the next two chapters written but not edited and they're currently much longer than this one, so no promises about a consistent and timely update schedule, but hopefully it won't be too long. 
> 
> Some world-building notes: this turned into a Harry Potter crossover instead of an AU because I'm in love with the idea of Harry as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. That is the only reason.¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Neville is the head of Gryffindor House. McGonagall is the Headmistress but she also still teaches Transfiguration because I could not figure out who taught after her (it wasn't online). Flitwick is still the head of Ravenclaw House. Also, they use Carry On swears instead of Harry Potter swears (except for "Merlin," which crosses over) because I tried Harry Potter swears and it sounded wrong. (Also, most of the mages used as swears in Carry On were also wizards in the Harry Potter universe, so I figure it's not too crazy a change.) 
> 
> They're in fourth year because that was the oldest I felt they could be while still doing something this stupid (looking at you, Baz). (Interestingly enough, Romilda Vane was in fourth year when she tried to do the same thing to Harry, a fact which I'd forgotten before I started writing.)
> 
> In regards to their Sorting: Listen. You could convince me of probably any Sorting arrangement for this group and this is not even my usual Sorting headcanon (though I will always fight for Ravenclaw Baz). Their Houses were chosen mostly for plot reasons. I'll probably play around with other Sorting arrangements in the future. (I love Hufflepuff!Simon just as much as you lol.)
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](www.fantasiavii.tumblr.com).


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